


Good Girl

by Once_Upon_A_Thyme



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Butt Plugs, Caning, Coffee Dad Sakura Sojiro, Edgeplay, F/M, Improper use of Mementos, Joker has a leather kink, Light Humiliation, Praise Kink, Punishment, Spanking, corner time, light pet play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_Upon_A_Thyme/pseuds/Once_Upon_A_Thyme
Summary: Makoto has an arrangement with Akira that if she ever falls behind on her studies, she wants him to punish her. When she fails a test, he takes her to Mementos and she gets a little more than she bargained for.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto, Niijima Makoto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51
Collections: Persona 5





	1. Good Girls Don't Lie

**Author's Note:**

> \- Makoto is certainly a good girl, but all the girls are best girl. (Jk, obviously Ryuji is best girl). 
> 
> \- I took some inspiration from the ecchi manga "Nana to Kaoru" -- it's an adorable (non-hentai/non-sexual) romance/comedy featuring a lot of BDSM. I highly recommend checking it out if you haven't already. It's surprisingly wholesome given the subject matter. 
> 
> \- Although my goal is to better the world by increasing the amount of femslash out there, sadly this only has Joker/Makoto as of now. I know, I'm a terrible gay.
> 
> \- Also, I didn't want to edit this so I'm sorry in advance.

It was Sunday evening at the Le Blanc. Morgana lay curled up in a strip of golden sunlight stretched across the floor, and the boiling kettle bubbled in the background. Akira measured out the freshly ground coffee beans into the ceramic cone dripper and took the kettle off the heat. Then he poured a slow, steady spiral of water into the coffee grounds and waited for the coffee to bloom. When it stopped crackling, he poured another slow spiral until the coffee had a rich, creamy foam on top. This was his favorite part: the steam wreathing up and fogging his glasses, the stillness of it like a meditation even during the busiest mornings.

“Hey,” Sojiro said, “looks like you’re getting a little better. Let me try.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel and took an appreciative sip. “Blue Mountain, huh? You sure do like the expensive stuff. Well, this isn’t half bad, but make sure to grind it finer next time—it’s a little sour.” 

Akira nodded and took back his cup, careful not to spill it. The shop door jingled, and Makoto walked in with a cold wind at her back. The sunset had already begun, and red, pink, and gold light spilled into the shop’s dim corners. 

“Oh, hello, Boss.” She tossed her scarf over one arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“No need,” Sojiro said. “I was just closing. After I find where Futaba is hiding we’ll head home.” He tossed Akira the keys. “And don’t forget to lock up if you go out.”

“Got it, Boss.” 

By the time Akira finished his coffee, Sojiro and Futaba had left for the night. Makoto stood next to the bar with her coat still on. Her face was still flushed from the cold, and tapped the heel of her shoe nervously on the floor. 

“Are we going to stay here, or did you have someplace else in mind?” she asked. 

Akira glanced over his shoulder. “You still want to do this?” 

“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ve made up my mind.” 

He went back to the sink and put away his cup, then grabbed his school-bag and his phone. “Then I have somewhere in mind. We shouldn’t bother Morgana, after all.” He jerked his head over to where Morgana was still sleeping in the last fading stretch of sunlight.

“Okay,” Makoto said. “Lead the way.”

They headed out into the cold, windy twilight streets. The sun had finally set, and the city was coming to life. Akira went through the alleyway to the Shibuya station, and then they were on the train to Shinjuku. 

Makoto leaned against Akira’s side and whispered into his ear. “We aren’t going to the Red Light District, are we? Sis would kill me if she found out I went there even once!”  
“Trust me,” Akira said. “We won’t stay long.” 

They stepped off in the Red Light District and Akira pulled out his phone in a nearby alley. 

“Mementos,” Akira murmured into his phone. 

“Destination confirmed.” 

The two Phantom Thieves arrived in Mementos with their costumes on, but it wasn’t a part of Mementos Makoto was familiar with. It hardly looked like the Mementos she knew at all—there were no endless, curving tunnels full of train tracks, and no monsters that she could see. It was dark and cool, and once her eyes adjusted she noticed that she was in a room lit with dim, red lights that nearly rendered everything a silhouette.

“Where are we?” Makoto asked. 

“Mementos,” Akira said. “Only here, the public’s distorted desires are a lot more… interesting.” He grinned. “Follow me.”

Akira took her hand and led her out of the room into a long hallway. The quick beat of club music reverberated through the floors, and behind all of the many closed doors were sounds that Makoto didn’t know if she wanted to identify. Moans, snaps, screams, and sighs all melted into the smokey air, and her heart was pounding in time to the beat of the music. 

“Don’t worry,” Akira murmured. “It’s just us. Everyone else is only part of the scenery.” 

He opened the door to a large, open room. Glass cases against the opposite wall were filled with shelves of brightly assorted dildos, vibrators, strap-ons, and other toys. There was a row of padded benches in the middle of a room, and a rack full of leather collars, cuffs, whips, crops, and paddles. Makoto’s face turned red all the way to her roots. 

“I-is this what I think it is?” she asked. 

“Probably,” Akira said. He stepped into the middle of the room and grinned. “What, is it too much for you? We can go back any time.” 

“No, it’s just… How did you find this place?”

He shrugged. “You said you wanted someplace private. I have my ways. Now, let’s go over the terms.” 

“Right,” Makoto said. The prospects of rules made her less flustered. “Terms.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a barely failed physics test from the week before. “It was when we were going to Futaba's palace after school, and I still had to do Student Council meetings and volunteer work… I thought I knew the material and so I didn’t study, and the night before the test I had to pull an all-nighter for calculus. I should have managed my time better.”

“That’s it?” Akira said. “That’s what you want to be punished for?”

“Well, yes, but…” Makoto looked down at her shoes. “I also lied about it to Sis when she asked me how my studies were going. She’s been working so hard lately, and some nights she even sleeps at the precinct. I didn’t want to worry her or make her upset.”

“Excuses or not, we made a contract,” Akira agreed. “You said you didn’t want your work as a Phantom Thief to interrupt your studies, but I don’t think that’s the only reason you agreed to our deal.” 

“What do you mean?” Makoto asked. 

“You need to learn to manage your time better, Makoto. And I don’t mean doing more—I mean doing less. Learning when to say no. You have so many responsibilities and obligations that of course something is going to slip. You can’t just keep running yourself into the ground like this.” 

“But I’m not—” 

“How many hours of sleep did you get last night?” Akira asked. 

“Eight.” 

He gave her a hard look. 

“Okay, okay—I got in bed early but then I realized I had another paper due on Monday, and I only got five hours of sleep.” 

“Your ambition is an amazing thing,” Akira said gently, “but you shouldn’t sacrifice your health because of it. Not even Sae would want you to put your studies above your health, Makoto.”

“I understand,” she said quietly. Then she bowed, handing Akira the failed test. “So, so please punish me!” 

Akira took the paper and put it his coat pocket. “Not so fast. You remember the terms?”

She nodded. “Green for go, yellow for wait, red for stop.”

“Be sure to tell me if something’s uncomfortable—this may be a punishment, but your safety comes first. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Makoto said. “I’m ready.” 

“What was that?” 

Makoto blushed again. “I’m ready, sir.” 

“Good.” 

Although Akira had been in his Phantom costume since they had entered Mementos, it was only now that he seemed to truly transform into Joker. There was a certain confidence in his stride, a particular roughness to his voice that turned Makoto on more than she wanted to admit. His smile was a razor’s edge, and there was a raw, almost dangerous air about him that made her shiver. 

“You’ve been a bad girl,” he said almost casually, “and bad girls deserve to be punished.”

“Are you going to spank me?”

“Oh, I’ll do far more than that.” He looked almost amused. “You need proper punishment.” 

Makoto shivered. “Yes, sir.” 

“Say it.” 

Makoto pressed her thighs together. “I-I’m a bad girl and I deserve punishment.” 

Joker crossed the length between them in one quick stride. “Louder.” He tipped her chin up with his gloved hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. 

Makoto swallowed hard. “I’m a bad girl and I deserve to be punished.” 

“Good.” 

It infuriated her how that one word caused heat pulsing between her thighs. She pressed her legs tighter together, hoping that would stop him from noticing. After all, this was a punishment—she shouldn’t be aroused. 

“Kneel,” Joker said. 

Makoto obediently sunk to her knees on the cold, hard floor. She cast her eyes downward from the sight of his belt at eye level and the tightness of his pants.  
Joker gripped her hair and tugged. “Eyes up. Wait here until I return, and don’t move.” 

“Yes, sir.” Makoto’s mouth was dry, and she counted the clicking steps of Joker’s boots on the floor as he crossed the room. Then it was silent, and there was nothing to do but wait.  


She waited until her knees ached and her legs began to fill with needles. Unlike her sister, she had never been particularly good at sitting ceremonial style. The thought of shifting just enough to let the blood come back into her legs was tempting, but she was sure he must be somewhere nearby, watching. Or perhaps he had left the room and she was all alone. She strained to see at the corners of her periphery vision, but there was nothing but those mysterious benches and low couches at the edge of the room. At last she took a quick look around her, and seeing nothing, decided to stretch her legs. He had said not to move, but she was hardly going anywhere. Another minute passed, and she wondered if he had somehow gotten lost. It was a new and unfamiliar part of Mementos, after all. 

The heat between her legs had not faded. On the contrary—the thought of being in some kind of dungeon in the seedy part of the Red Light District (or its mental counterpart), kneeling in anticipation of a sound spanking sent waves of hot, unbearable pleasure flooding her senses. She surreptitiously slipped a hand beneath her skirt—she didn’t want this embarrassing secret to be found out during her punishment—she didn’t know if she could handle the embarrassment. She was almost on the verge of climaxing when the click of Joker’s heels sounded again. She pulled her hand sharply out of her skirt and sat still as he walked up to her. 

“I’m back,” he said, slinging his bag down on the ground. It was alarmingly full. “You didn’t move, did you?” 

She paused. Surely he meant the physical act of relocating, and not shifting position, but it would be unwise for her to disobey him now. “No, I didn’t.”

“Is that so?” Joker drew out his phone and showed it to her. It was a video of her kneeling with her hand under her skirt, panting and biting her lip with the effort not to moan. “Do you want to try that again?” 

“I-I just—” 

“Think very carefully about your next words, Makoto.” 

“I… I disobeyed you,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” 

Joker grasped her hair sharply and forced her to look him in the eye. “That’s the second time you’ve lied to me today, Makoto.”

“I’m sorry,” Makoto insisted. Her voice crept up an octave. “I’m sorry, sir!”

“You’ll be even sorrier once I’m through with you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Get up.”

She got to her feet, wincing at the pins and needles in her legs and the wetness soaking through her panties and leggings. 

“Strip,” he said, not looking away from her. 

Makoto hesitated before obeying. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before, but it felt more vulnerable now, as if she was peeling back her skin. She folded her clothes neatly and placed them next to his bag. Her thighs were still soaked, and they were growing colder from the exposed air. 

Joker stooped and pulled a latex suit out of his bag. He tossed it at her. “Put this on. If you’re going to act like a disobedient pet, I’ll treat you like one.” 

The suit consisted of a black latex bra with matching panties. She slipped them on and then stood staring at what looked like long gloves and socks with leather belts attached to them. She put them on, and Joker nodded in approval. He pulled out a headband with doggy ears on it and placed it into her hair. 

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered. 

When she had obeyed, he crouched down and bent her arms up so that she was kneeling on her elbows. He threaded the belts across her forearms and locked them into place. Then he did the same with her legs until she was kneeling on her elbows and knees with her feet and hands bound tight by the suit. Finally, he took a clip-on tail from his bag and clipped it onto a loop in her panties. He gave her a smack on the ass and stood up, taking a long, sturdy riding crop from the bag. 

“From this point on, you are a dog,” he explained, tapping the crop against the palm of his hand. “Dogs don’t talk, they bark. They ask permission from their owners, and they obey immediately. Bad dogs, like bad girls, deserve punishment. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes, sir—” 

Makoto yelped as the crop lashed against her bottom, just below her tail. She lowered her head. It was unthinkable—she wouldn’t stoop as low as that. Not when he was looking at her with that wicked grin, just daring her to disobey. She just couldn’t.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Joker said lowly. 

Makoto burned with shame. She swallowed, then craned her head up to look at him—he twirled the crop in his hands and tapped his foot. “Woof!” 

Joker’s grin widened. “Good girl.” He bent down and pet her hair, and Makoto almost moaned with pleasure. She wanted nothing more than to hear those words again—she needed to hear them. Even her shame and humiliation couldn’t outweigh the pleasure of his praise.

Joker bent down again and fixed a leather collar around her neck. Then he clicked a matching black leash into the metal ring just above her throat. His fingers were cool and deft, and he worked quickly. When he stood up, the leash grew taut, and she hobbled forward to alleviate the pressure on her throat. 

“We’re going for a walk,” he said. “Come on.” 

She put one elbow forward tentatively. It was hard to move in such a tight suit, but he took small steps until she got the hang of it. Then he took her to the door and she balked, sitting back on her haunches. 

He raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t say you could rest.” Makoto whimpered, but he only wrapped the leash around his hand, shortening it until she was forced to walk right at his heels. “Remember, no one here is real. They won’t recognize you.” 

His reassurance did little to comfort her as they went out of the door and into the hallway. The beat of the music still pulsed through her, and she tried to keep her eyes on the ground. Joker took her into a large room thrumming with music and threaded with conversation. She looked up to see heels flashing by, sequined tops glittering in the neon lights, the tightly packed bodies shimmering with sweat and weaving in and out of the smoke. 

No matter how much she reminded herself that the people weren’t real, she couldn’t help but feel their eyes on her and hear their scattered laughs and murmurs. She squeezed her eyes tight and took a deep breath, but the air was thick and gave no relief. Her legs trembled, and she imagined everyone in the club seeing what a bad girl she was, how naughty she had been. They would know. Everyone knew. 

“Hey,” Joker murmured. His breath stirred the air by her ear. “It’s okay.” 

She opened her eyes to find him crouching by her side. He placed a hand on her back and bent his head forward. 

“What’s your color?” he asked softly. 

She took a deep breath. Even though his glove she felt his hand radiating warmth on her bare skin. “Green.” 

“Are you sure? It’s okay—we can take a break.” 

She shook her head. “No, I’m good. I can handle it.” 

Joker hummed. “All right. We’ll go to the tables over there on the far wall and then go back to our room.” 

She nodded. “Woof.” 

Joker grinned and ruffled her hair. “Looks like you’re getting used to this. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up more often.” 

The leash pulled taut at her throat as he stood up, and she followed him carefully around the crowd. Her breathing slowed back down, and she focused on the click of his step and the polish of his boots in the light. When they made it to the far side, he sat down on one of the low couches with his legs sprawled wide. They were the only ones in this corner of the room, and it was slightly quieter here. 

“Come here,” he said. 

She crawled on her elbows and knees towards him, between his legs. Just the thought of what she was doing sent a thrill through her. When he placed a hand between the ears of her headband, she leaned into his touch. 

“You’ve been a good girl,” Joker said. “We’re almost done, but let’s wait a little to go back. Sit.” 

Makoto readily obeyed, leaning back on her thighs to relieve the pressure on her elbows and knees. She leaned against his thigh and let his fingers thread through her hair until she was nearly drowsy. When he stood up, she stretched her back, wiggling her bottom in the air and feeling the tail move between her thighs. He smacked her playfully with the riding crop, and she went back to all fours. They made a slow circuit back through the crowded room, through the hallway, and into the empty room. By the time they made it back, her knees and elbows ached and the latex was uncomfortably tight. 

She went to the middle of the room and wagged her tail again, sitting down on her haunches before he could use the crop. Then she pawed at the straps pinning her arms. “Woof?” 

“Not so fast,” Joker said. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson quite yet. Lying is unacceptable, and I’m very disappointed in you. You need to think about what you’ve done.” 

He reached into his bag again and drew out a bar of cheap soap. He knelt down to her eye level, and slipped off one glove. Then he pushed the bar of soap into her mouth with his bare hand and reached back between her legs. He pressed a finger between her thighs, and she bit down hard on the bar of soap. His finger came back slick. 

“Look like someone’s been enjoying herself. You need proper punishment, pet.” 

He pulled his glove back on and took the crop in his hand, giving her ten quick, stinging lashes across her ass and thighs. It wasn’t the pain so much as the humiliation that made Makoto drop her head in shame. 

“Now,” he said, “you’re going to sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. No fidgeting and no moving. If that bar of soap comes out of your mouth, you’ll start your corner time all over again. Is that clear?” 

Makoto nodded vigorously. The soap stung as much as the crop did, and she was already regretting her lies. Knowing Joker, her original punishment hadn’t even started yet. 

“Good.” 

He unclipped the leash from her neck and made sure the collar fit closely. With a slap of his hand against her thighs he sent her to the corner to wait. She didn’t dare look behind her, but she knew he would be lounging nearby with that smug look on his face. Well, she did ask to be punished—she must have known he’d do a thorough job of it. After all, he never left anything done half-way. But sitting bound like a disobedient puppy with her mouth full of soap and her backside stinging, she had to wonder what she had gotten herself into.


	2. Heart's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto's real punishment begins, and Joker ramps up the intensity.

After several minutes of sitting in the corner with the acrid taste of soap in her mouth, Joker came to her side. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” 

She nodded, moaning around the bar of soap. 

Joker bent down and hooked a finger into the metal ring of her collar. “I hope you have, because the next time you lie to me I won’t be as lenient.” He took the bar of soap from her mouth and reached around her arms and legs to undo the straps of the suit. 

“Thank you, sir.” Makoto rubbed at her arms and flexed her fingers. A bright, hot shower of needles pricked under her skin from the tightness of the latex and the uncomfortable position. She let him lift up her legs and slide the latex off her, and she held out her arms for him to work the rest of the suit off. He reached around and unclipped the tail from her panties and took off the doggy-eared headband, but when she lifted her neck for him to unclasp her collar he just smiled. 

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Joker smiled. “The collar suits you.” He slipped two fingers underneath the collar to make sure it wasn’t too tight, then wrapped the leash around his hand again. “Now that you’ve had some time to rest and think about how naughty you’ve been, it’s time to begin your actual punishment.” 

Makoto’s face must have given away her displeasure, because he looked down at her sternly. She poked out her tongue briefly, but he wasn’t amused. 

“Don’t give me that look—it’s your own fault for lying to me. We would have been done already if you hadn’t disobeyed me. Give me any more attitude and I’ll have to punish you for that, too.” 

Makoto looked away quickly, not eager to test him any further. Sae had always told her that she had a prideful streak, but her sister probably hadn’t imagined it like this. Relinquishing her need for control felt surprisingly good. Right now she had no responsibilities, no choices to make, no schedule to keep. Joker was in charge of everything. Joker was in control of her. The thought only made her more aroused, and she wondered if that was also cause for punishment. She didn’t know if she wanted to find out. 

His strictness satisfied some need deep inside her—if he had only given her a half-hearted spanking, she wouldn’t have felt punished. She wouldn’t have felt absolved. But now nothing was in her hands, and there was no use thinking about what she should or shouldn’t have done. It was thrilling, it was terrifying, and most of all, it was freeing. To be at Joker’s mercy, his whim, was incredibly arousing, but this experience was every bit as humiliating and hard as she had hoped for. Perhaps that impossible tightrope between pain and pleasure was the key to it all. Perhaps the fact that Joker chose punishments she genuinely disliked was what gave her that hopeless, shameful, miserable thrill. 

Joker took her to the spanking bench in the middle of the room. “Bra and panties off.” 

She handed him the last of her clothes and stood there shivering in the cold air, waiting for his next command. He took his time before fishing into the bag and revealing a smooth, curved vibrator. Just the sight of it made her wet with anticipation. 

“I thought this was supposed to be a punishment,” she said hesitantly. 

“Don’t you worry, it will be.” He put a hand against her shoulder blades and pushed her onto the bench. “Hands and knees.” 

The bench was made so that the middle dipped down at an incline, forcing her to prop herself up on her elbows with her thighs and legs spread apart. Joker adjusted the bench so that it raised her ass even higher and left her more exposed. Then he took her wrists and cuffed them to the sides of the bench, and did the same for her ankles. She felt molded to the bench, and no part of her body would budge no matter how much she strained. 

Joker took the vibrator and slid it slowly between her legs—she was so wet that it had no problem sliding all the way into her, and he secured it with a harness around her hips and waist. He waved a small remote in his hand and pressed a button. Immediately, the vibrator began to hum deep inside her. Even such a low stimulation flooded her sensitive body, and she moaned loudly. She tried to thrust her hips against the bench, but the restraints held her in place. 

Joker pressed the button again and the vibrator stopped. Then there was a whistle and a crack, and a hot line branded Makoto’s bare ass. It wasn’t a crop this time, but a cane. The pain was far more intense than Makoto had expected, and she yelped with surprise. 

“Please, sir! Please!” Makoto strained to look at him, but he was standing behind her where she couldn’t see.

“Please what?” She could hear the amusement in his voice. “Use your words, Makoto.” 

“Please do that again,” Makoto pleaded. 

“You mean this?” 

The cane snapped against her upper thighs this time, and Makoto cried out. The two lashes lingered, burning and stinging with no relief. She whimpered with a sudden understanding of what Joker intended to do. 

“Tell me, Makoto.” Joker tapped the cane against her upturned ass. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.” 

“I-I want you to…” Makoto bit her lip. The words were thick in her mouth. He knew she hated such vulgar language, hated admitting that she was so human, with needs and wants and desires, such base desires. 

The cane came down twice more in rapid succession, and she choked off another cry. It hurt more than any spanking she had had before, more than that time Sae had flipped her over her knee and taken a hairbrush to her backside in frustration. Makoto knew that Joker was toying with her, taunting her. Well, she wouldn’t bite. 

“You never know how to ask for what you want, do you?” Joker lectured. “You always agree to whatever people ask of you, but when it comes to your own wishes, you keep them hidden. That way you won’t be vulnerable and you won’t be judged. Well, there are worse things in life than being judged, Makoto. So tell me—” 

He punctuated each word with a sharp lash of the cane. 

“What. Do. You. Want.” 

Makoto cried out louder than before, desperately trying to thrust her hips in an attempt to turn away from the stinging, cutting blows. He was right—she knew he was right. She had told him time and time again that she wished she could tell someone, anyone, the simple yet unspeakable word “no.” But the words in his mouth sounded harsh, grating. She didn’t want to hear them, not now. Not when there was nowhere to run or hide, nowhere to escape. 

“Please,” Makoto whispered, “please fuck me.” 

She winced as Joker grabbed a fistful of hair and tilted her head back. “Say it again. Louder.” 

“Please,” she begged, “fuck me until I’m raw and gasping your name! Fuck me, Joker!” 

“With pleasure.” 

The vibrator turned on suddenly to its highest setting, and her fists clenched. It felt so good, so good, so unbelievably good. It was humming inside of her, deep between her thighs, and she ached so much she thought she would burst with pleasure. The cane whipped across her ass and the back of her thighs, and she screamed at the pain melting into the pleasure and the rough grasp of Joker’s fingers in her hair and the leather collar rasping at her throat. She bucked her hips wildly, desperately, and then the vibrator stopped and the cane came down merciless and hard until she was crying from the relentless, stinging blows and the sudden, unbearable absence between her legs. 

Her whole body shuddered and heaved, and tears pricked her eyes as Joker tugged sharply at her hair. “P-p-please, I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please fuck me! Please let me come, Joker! I’m sorry, I’ll be a good girl from now on, I promise! I’ll be so good! I’ll never lie to you or Sae again!”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

Joker kept whipping her, hard and fast. He was panting from the exertion, and his rough breaths and the crisp click of his boots almost sent Makoto over the edge. He pulled the vibrator out of her, leaving her hot and dripping, and she wailed. Her ass and thighs were a stinging mess of latticed lash marks, and each blow stamped a fresh wave of pain across her glowing skin.

Then just as suddenly, he set the cane down carefully and pulled off his gloves. Makoto’s hair fell into her eyes as she leaned forward, almost resting her forehead on the bench. The breath caught in her throat when she heard the zipper of Joker’s pants and the rustle of his long coat on the floor. He kicked off his boots and pressed his bare hips to the throbbing, red stripes across her ass. She hissed, not knowing if it was in pain or pleasure. 

Joker leaned over her, pinning her down with his hands gripping the edge of the bench. He pressed his mouth to the skin just above her collar and dragged his teeth along her neck until he reached her ear. He bit it, and her moan turned into a whimper. 

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped in her ear. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Makoto said breathlessly. “Fuck me, Joker.” 

His hips snapped against her still stinging ass and she clenched her fists. She closed her eyes as he slowly slid into her from behind, already slicked up and hot. He paused, waiting.   
“Yes,” she cried. “Please!”

He slid all the way into her, and at that moment all she felt was relief. Relief of his skin on hers, relief that she had made sure to scrub herself thoroughly in the shower before she came, relief that the mounting, unbearable pleasure within her was unraveling her entirely. 

Joker gripped her hair and yanked so hard that the tears came back into her eyes. There was a pressure at her throat, and she realized that he had clipped the leash to her collar again without her noticing. He snapped the leash against her arched back as he slid out of her, and before she could protest he slammed back into her so quickly she bit her lip to stop from screaming his name. 

He set a fast, reckless pace that left the both of them sweaty and panting and sore. Having Joker fuck her in the ass while she was bound on her hands and knees made her feel incredibly rough, dirty, and sexy in the best way possible. It felt like that delicious, painful high that she had gotten after her first time using her Persona. When he raked his nails across her striped ass she cried out, and then he was spanking her in between thrusts and all she could do was choke on his name. 

“Akira,” she panted. “Akira!”

“Does it hurt, love?” His voice was low, throaty, and breathless.

“Yes, yes! Please, don’t stop!” 

He didn’t stop. Not even after she clenched around him, screaming his name and moaning unashamedly, not even when she begged him to slow down. 

“Color,” he rasped. 

“G-green!” She clenched her fists and unfurled them like flowers. Each thrust sent an electric thrill through her overstimulated body, and when Joker finally came with a cracked cry, she slumped slick and sweaty and spent onto the bench. Her body was loose, uncoiled. Every jointed in her body had melted, and her brain was spinning in circles. 

It was only when he wiped a cool, damp cloth against her hot skin that she realized they were done. 

“W-wait, I can take more,” she said. 

“Take a break,” he said, undoing the restraints around her ankles and wrists. 

“But—” 

“That’s an order,” he said firmly. “We’re taking a break. You’re not the only one who can use a safeword.” 

“Oh,” Makoto said. “Okay.” 

She got up from the bench slowly, rubbing her wrists. After they put their clothes back on, he handed her a bottle of cold genmaicha and she drank half of it in one go—she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. Perhaps she would have preferred hot tea, but she was hot enough as it was, and who said cold tea was only for the summer? Joker always seemed to have some can of soda or tea snuck in his bag—she wondered if he bought them in bulk, or if he had a habit of stopping by every vending machine he saw. 

“Are we done?” she asked after they had finished their tea. 

“Do you want to be?” 

She bit her lip. “Well, I… I just thought—” 

Joker laughed. “Don’t worry, you aren’t getting off so easy. But let’s take a break for a while—we have plenty of time until the morning.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Wanna check out the shops around here? They sell some pretty cool stuff.”

“Like, real shops? Akira!” 

“What?” He shrugged. “There’s no reason we couldn’t take some things back home. As long as Boss isn’t there, he won’t know a thing.” 

“You’re positively scandalous,” she muttered. “No wonder you and Ryuji have such a reputation at school. You deserve it, you know!” 

“So you don’t want to get something?” He gave her a devilish grin. “You do look pretty stunning in a collar, you know.” 

Makoto blushed. “I didn’t say that. And don’t try to flatter me, Akira Kurusu.” She crossed her arms and pulled the hem of her skirt down. “Fine. We can go look. But if anyone recognizes us, it’ll be your fault!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “You drive a hard bargain, but it’s a deal.” He winked. “Come on, I know just the place!”

Makoto sighed. “I don’t even want to know how you found it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I thought this was only going to have two parts, but I couldn't resist another chapter. 
> 
> \- Also, for whoever needs to hear this, Morgana says "go the fuck to sleep!"


	3. Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker and Makoto go to the real world for some kinky shopping and surprise BDSM in Shinjuku. Then, Makoto's punishment continues.

They were inside a kind of shop Makoto never thought she would visit when Joker pulled her into one of the restrooms in the back. She had been walking through the aisles trying not to meet anyone’s eye, glancing with a masochistic curiosity at the bright red ball gags and the mannequins fitted with tight black latex. When Joker had said he wanted his purchase to be a surprise, she should have known it wasn’t going to end well for her. 

“Akira!” Makoto whispered. “We shouldn’t be in here together.”

“No one saw us,” he said. “Now, pull down your panties.” 

Makoto flushed a deep red. “We’re not in Mementos anymore! I—we can’t—you aren’t going to—” 

“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Joker’s tone was mild, but she heard the threat underneath it, and it wasn’t an idle one. 

Makoto swallowed hard and slid her panties down to her knees. She didn’t want to spend any more time in this filthy bathroom than she had to. 

“Put your hands on the sink and bend over,” Akira said. 

“We’re not going to have…” Makoto’s voice faded. “Here?” 

Akira laughed quietly. “No, not here. I have something else in mind.” 

Makoto bent over, and Akira flipped up her skirt. Her ass had stopped stinging from the caning already, but the touch of his hand still surprised her, and she muffled a yelp as something cold and sticky smoothed over her bare skin. The sinking feeling in her stomach grew deeper, and something small and smooth pushed into her from behind. It was also cold, but as Joker worked it in gently, she realized what exactly it was—one of the smooth, glass butt plugs from the shelves of the store. It felt larger than it had looked on the shelf, and by the time it was inserted, she was fuller than she had ever been before. 

It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t as comfortable as a smaller size would have been. Makoto was pretty sure that was on purpose. When Akira slid the plug back out slowly, and then back in, she bit her lip to keep from making any noise. Then he flipped her skirt back over and she pulled her panties up again. She watched him wash his hands with her knees pressed together tightly. 

“You want me to go out there with this?” Makoto asked nervously.

“Exactly,” Akira said. “Just one more store, and then we’ll head back to Mementos. Can you handle that?” 

Makoto grimaced. This wouldn’t be her first choice, but if she refused, she doubted she would like Akira’s alternative punishment any better. “I can handle it.” 

Akira smiled sweetly at her, as if that could persuade her he wasn’t already scheming something else. “Good.” 

She stepped back into the store with Akira at her arm, and immediately felt the plug shift when she walked. She knew it wouldn’t fall out, but she could feel it under her skirt and suddenly there seemed to be twice as many people in the store. Thankfully, Akira led her outside, but the streets were far more busy than the shop had been. Makoto kept her head down and focused on walking. Suddenly it seemed such a monumental task.

“You’re doing great,” Akira said quietly. He went into another shop with more leather-clad mannequins and rows of paddles against the walls next to a line of colorful dildos and vibrators. He walked to a row of handcuffs and lifted slim metal ones that looked like replicas of police handcuffs. “What do you think about these?” 

“They’re certainly striking,” Makoto said. 

“Yes, but I’m sure they wouldn’t be very comfortable. Nothing too long in them,” he mused. 

Makoto could hardly keep her attention from wandering as they walked. The plug only grew more conspicuous with each step, and the shifting built up a pleasurable tightness within her that was hard to ignore. Just the fact that she was in a real sex shop was embarrassing enough, but to be secretly wearing a butt plug, too? That’s what perverts and delinquents did—although she supposed she had no room to talk, being both herself. Once again, her head swam with a heady mix of shame, humiliation, exhilaration, and arousal.

It was only after the cold wind hit her that she realized they were outside again. Soon they were back in the vacant alley, and Akira pulled out his phone to take them back to Mementos. Makoto had barely made it into the room before Akira kissed her. She kissed him back feverishly, each movement intensifying the sensation of the butt plug. His mouth was hard, and warm, and intoxicating. When he pulled back, his eyes pooled dark in the dim light.

Only it wasn’t dim anymore. High florescent paneled lights flickered on, illuminating an empty classroom. It looked very similar to the one Makoto had homeroom in, with blackboards on the front and back walls, a sliding door, and neatly aligned desks in rows. 

“Joker, are we still in Mementos?” 

He nodded. “Turns out lots of people have school-related fantasies. Considering what we’re here for, I thought we could make use of it.” 

So he hadn’t forgotten about the failed test. Makoto knew he wouldn’t, but to think he had planned something so elaborate made her shiver in anticipation. 

“Put these on,” Joker said. He tossed her one of her school uniforms from his bag. 

Makoto blushed. She knew leaving one of her uniforms in his room was a mistake. He said he’d hidden it, and that even Morgana didn’t know it was there, but still. She stripped off her clothes and slipped on her uniform. Wearing it here gave her a sense of déjà vu that felt dirty, given the context. She figured that was the point. It hadn’t taken Joker long to figure out how much she loved and hated humiliation.

“Hurry up.” A sharp rap startled her, and Makoto jumped. Joker tapped the meterstick in his hand on the linoleum floor again. “You’re going to go to the blackboard and write out ‘I’m a bad girl who deserves to be punished, and I won’t neglect my health or my studies again.’ Any lazy penmanship will only make your punishment worse.” 

Makoto licked her lips. “How many times?” 

Joker tapped the meterstick against the floor. 

“H-how many times, sir?” 

“Until I tell you to stop.” 

Makoto nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Before, it had been easier to see Akira’s playful side even through his sternness, but now he seemed unmovable and so terribly disappointed in her. She walked to the blackboard and began copying her lines with a piece of chalk. After nearly half an hour, she glanced behind her to see Joker lounging on a desk.

“Did I tell you to stop?” 

“No, sir,” Makoto said quickly, and resumed copying her lines. Once she had filled up the entire blackboard in small, careful handwriting and had resorted to squeezing lines in at the very bottom, she heard the click of Joker’s boots behind her. 

Joker surveyed the board for a moment, then pointed to a line in the center. “You misspelled ‘studies.’ Such an elementary mistake means that you weren’t paying attention. And here—your handwriting looks more like Ryuji’s. I expect better from you, Makoto.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Makoto whispered. She bit her lip as Joker took an eraser and wiped away the entire board. 

“Keep writing,” Joker said. 

She looked at him in disbelief. He had just erased an entire hour’s worth of painstaking work for minor mistakes. Even Sae wasn’t so heartless. He couldn’t seriously mean for her to do the entire board over again. 

“I know you heard me,” he said quietly. He crossed his arms and started slowly counting in a low voice. “One. Two…

Makoto’s eyes widened. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. It was simply infeasible. 

“Three.” Joker sighed. “Makoto Niijima. I had hoped you would learn to obey by now, but you’re too stubborn for your own good. No matter how willful you are, we’re going to stay here until I’m satisfied that you’ve learned your lesson. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes, sir.” Makoto said. 

“I don’t think you do.” Joker hooked a finger into the ring looped through her collar and tugged her closer. He tipped up her chin with his finger, and somehow the gesture felt more serious than if he had put his hand around her throat. His voice crackled with an authority that made her wet again and a hard edge that made her regret ever testing him.   
“You are not in control here,” Joker said. “You asked me for punishment, and you asked me to teach you a lesson. You asked for this, Makoto. You wanted it. Now, if you want to use your safeword then do it. We’ll quit, no questions asked and no judgment. Or we can take a break—we don’t have to finish your punishment today. We don’t have to finish it at all. That’s up to you. But when I tell you to do something, you obey. We discussed what would happen if you disobeyed me, remember? Writing lines isn’t a soft limit, and it’s not a hard one, either. So either tell me a safeword, or you will obey me. Which is it?”

“I-I…” Makoto swallowed hard, and Joker drew back his hand. 

“It’s okay, Makoto. Tell me.” 

“I just don’t want to write any more lines,” she blurted out. It sounded even more childish out loud. “It’s not that I want to stop—I don’t. Honestly. Even when you were whipping me, and it was so intense, I didn’t want to stop. It was hard, but that’s what made it worth it. But this… it’s… boring.” 

“I know it is.” Joker said. “That’s the point. Writing lines is boring and tedious—that’s why it’s a punishment. Now, answer my question. What is your color?” 

“Green.” 

“Okay. You do know that I’m going to punish you for this, right? Tonight you’ve been very good at taking your punishment, but you’ve also lied to me and disobeyed me, and I won’t tolerate any misbehavior. I made that very clear from the beginning, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, sir.” Makoto hung her head. 

“And yet you still disobeyed me. If you wanted a harder punishment, you should have asked, Makoto. Because now, you’re really not going to like the consequences of your misbehavior.” 

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Makoto shifted uncomfortably. Now that her concentration had worn off, she realized that the butt plug was even more uncomfortable than it had been in the store. It was awkward and it burned, and every time she moved it got worse. She had a feeling this was the least of her worries right now.

“Strip,” Joker said. “I want you to get on top of the desk and straddle it.” 

“On top?” Makoto climbed up, and the moment her bare skin touched the wood she cringed at how unbelievably humiliating this was. She wouldn’t be able to look at another desk for weeks without remembering it.

“Yes, like that. Spread your legs even wider. Now, bend over the hold onto the top of the seat. All the way.” 

The butt plug ached as she stretched out across the desk, and leaning forward only made her ass and thighs more exposed. A sharp rap of the meterstick on her thighs stopped her from moving into a more comfortable position. 

“Keep your thighs wide,” Joker said. “Yes, good. Hold that position, and don’t move.” He punctuated his command with a sharp slap of the meterstick across her ass. The sensation rippled through her and she clenched her muscles, which only heightened the tightness of the butt plug even further. 

“Yes, sir.” Makoto resisted the urge to squeeze her thighs against the edges of the desk. 

“Tell me, Makoto—do you enjoy being disobedient?” Joker’s tone was almost conversational, but a hard strike across her ass with the meterstick reminded her of his intentions.

“No, sir.” 

Her answer only earned her an even sharper strike across the backs of her thighs. She hissed through her teeth. The length and surprising thickness of the wooden meterstick made it even more formidable than the sturdy riding crop, and it packed an even greater sting. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Joker said. “Think about it. Do you enjoy being disobedient? Does it give you a thrill? Turn you on? Make you feel excited, or satisfied?” 

“Yes,” Makoto said in a small voice. “It does.” 

She thought of the time she had seen a pink, flower-shaped vibrator in Sae’s stocking drawer. How she had felt its smoothness with the tip of her thumb and taken it to her room one evening when her sister was at work. She had used it in her bed, moaning at the deliciousness of how perverse it was. Then she had carefully washed it and put it back in the drawer. It wouldn’t do for Sae to find out her secret, after all. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm? She didn’t want such a thing in her own room—she couldn’t imagine how embarrassed she would be if Sae found it.   
She bowed her head as the crisp, stinging blows of the meterstick followed one after another. Each stroke laid sharp lines across her ass, and Joker worked his way methodically down to the middle of her thighs until every blow made her wince.

“You wouldn’t be a Phantom Thief if you didn’t enjoy breaking the rules once in a while. But when you agree to give up control to me, I expect you to honor our contract. No more, no less.”

“Y-yes, sir!” Makoto gripped the back of the seat harder as Joker spanked her faster. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t want to hear any more excuses,” Joker said, snapping the meterstick across the center of her spread cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” Makoto cried. “I’ll be a good girl!” 

“That’s not a proper apology.” Joker punctuated each word with another spanking directly across the butt plug. 

“I’m sorry for disobeying you and being stubborn, and I deserve my punishment! Please forgive me, Joker!” 

“Better.” 

The meterstick clattered onto the desk beside Makoto, followed by Joker’s two gloves, but she didn’t dare move. He raked his nails roughly across her tender ass, and her thighs trembled at the white-hot heat of the scratches. His cool fingers brushed her burning skin, and in an instant he pulled the butt plug out of her. 

Makoto screamed, but it wasn’t so much painful as shocking. Suddenly, she felt empty and burning inside and out. Joker said nothing, and his boots echoed on the tile as he walked away. Panic sparked in Makoto’s chest at the thought that he was leaving her again, but he only went to his bag and unzipped it. She didn’t want to know what he brought back, but she soon found out when it slapped against the unmarked inside of her thighs. It was the riding crop again—she wanted to sob.

“I’m not going to let a single centimeter of you go unmarked,” Joker growled. “Every time you sit down you’ll remember what a bad girl you’ve been. When you’re in the classroom, and when you’re eating dinner with your sister, and when you’re sitting at the bar while the Boss makes his coffee. You won’t forget your disobedience for a long time, Makoto.” 

He finished his lecture with a flurry of hard, precise blows to her inner thighs that left her trembling with the effort to keep her legs open. By this point, Makoto dearly wished that she had just continued writing lines. Even the cane, which was so much more intense, didn’t compare to the relentless, quick lashes of the meterstick and riding crop. 

“Spread your cheeks,” Joker said roughly. 

Makoto complied with a dawning understanding. This position was even more awkward, with her having to reach behind her to spread her ass wide while she propped herself up on her knees and elbows. She doubted there was any position more humiliating than this one. 

“Hold it like that. If you break position, we’ll start over again.” 

Makoto hadn’t even opened her mouth to reply when Joker struck her right on her exposed hole with the crop. The noise that came out of her mouth was somewhere between a strangled moan and a choked scream. It was like he was hammering a wedge into her, and it stung with an incomparable ferocity. Tears dripped onto the desk, but she kept her position. She didn’t dare test him now.

Another blow made her sob, and by the fifth strike she was crying without any reservation. The sixth strike was sharper than the last, with no break to recover. 

“Fuck,” Makoto said, and a stream of swears escaped her that she never thought she would say aloud, and which she immediately regretted. 

“Language,” Joker warned with a flick of the crop.

“I’m sorry!” Makoto cried. “It hurts!”

“I know. It’s meant to.” 

The next three spankings with the crop were hard and immediately after each other, culminating in a pain like a hot brand across a place that Makoto had never exposed before, and never wanted to after. She sobbed with ragged, choppy breaths. 

“Y-yellow!” 

Joker immediately set down the crop and steadied her as she climbed off the desk. She stood up, dizzy from the sudden rush of blood. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Makoto said. She sniffled and tried to stop her shoulders from heaving. “But n-no, no more. Please.”

Akira nodded. “Of course.” He handed her a bottle of water from his bag. “Here—you need to stay hydrated.” 

She drank, and realized just how thirsty she was. “I’m sorry. I just got overwhelmed…” 

“It’s okay,” Akira said gently. “We’re done for now, no questions asked. It’s up to you if you want to finish at all. Take your time, and let’s have a break. How does that sound?” 

Makoto nodded. She walked towards the doorway, then realized that she was completely naked except for the collar around her throat. “Um… how many pairs of clothes did you bring, Akira?” 

He laughed as he rummaged for his glasses. “Too many. It never hurts to be prepared though. I found these along with your school clothes. Are they okay?”

He held up a pair of trackpants and a tee-shirt, and she nodded. 

“Those are good. I think I left them there after Ryuji made us go to the gym with him last Wednesday.” 

After she had put on fresh clothes, they walked through the corridors together. 

“Can we not go back to that room we were in earlier?” Makoto asked. It felt too much right now—she knew she’d never be able to relax staring at rows of collars and colored dildos. 

“No problem,” Akira said. “I did some scouting before we came. It turns out this place is pretty expansive. You wouldn’t believe what kind of rooms there are. I didn’t know so many people were into this kind of stuff.”

Makoto grinned. “You mean you can’t believe people are as perverted as you?”

He threw up his hands. “Well, technically you’re the one who asked me…”

“Mr. Kurusu, are you threatening me with blackmail?” Makoto raised an eyebrow.

“Only if it’ll work,” he teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I really thought this chapter would be the last, but I guess not... I'm terrible at estimating my stories' lengths. 
> 
> \- Next chapter will probably include Joker's cross-dressing BDSM DLC outfit.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Pt. II is coming soon!
> 
> \- I know I'm going to hell for this, so peace out. I'll see you there. *salutes*


End file.
